


Scorched Earth: The Prequel To Miss Peregrine’s Peculiar Children

by annaswintour



Series: Miss Peregrine’s Prequels [1]
Category: Miss Peregrine's Home for Peculiar Children - Ransom Riggs
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Motherly love, Prequel, Ymbryne, mphfpc
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-28
Updated: 2019-05-28
Packaged: 2020-03-26 13:07:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,835
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19006393
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/annaswintour/pseuds/annaswintour
Summary: A story about the first peculiar child (OC) Alma LeFay Peregrine found, and their life before the others. A prequel to Miss Peregrine's Home for Peculiar Children.





	Scorched Earth: The Prequel To Miss Peregrine’s Peculiar Children

**Author's Note:**

> This is based off of the book and it remains pretty true but there is some small stuff that might be different for the purpose of plot and some stuff that I've added
> 
> DISCLAIMER: All of these characters belong to the amazing and talented Ransom Riggs except for my protagonist and any other OC's.

June 15, 1930  
Wicklow, Ireland

I don't know what I did this time to not receive my dinner, but I was desperately trying to figure it out as the familiar pain in my stomach began to settle in even worse than usual. Even if I knew what it was I did, apologizing to my father wasn't going to get me a meal anytime soon. My only hope was to wait until tomorrow.

Still, I'd rather know what it was. I didn't remember hurling anything at him or trying to push him across the room with the invisible force he was so afraid of. In fact, I hadn't used my power in over a week.

Sometimes he was just too angry at my existence, or too drunk to remember to feed me. I still didn't understand why it had to be like this, why he had to hurt me. My mother once told me they would always love me, but that was before she left.

It wasn't always like this.

Our family used to be happy, and I wasn't born moving things with my mind.

My brother, Emmett, was treated normally and free to do whatever he pleased. We were twins, but only I was able to control things at will without touching them. 

I got along well with my brother. Father never let him near me though, so I only saw hime when no one was around and we wouldn't get caught. He considered me dangerous and locked me away in a room with no windows, and a small mattress without sheets or pillows for me to sleep on. The only other things in the room were a large wool blanket that made my skin itchy and was often too hot, and a bucket for me to use the restroom of which smelled horrid. I tried to stay as far away from it as possible.

Although the room had no windows, I could clearly tell that night was settling in. I crawled to a different corner of the room which I hadn't left in almost a month. If it wasn't for Emmett coming in every chance he could I would have surely gone crazy, or at least that's what Emmett said happened to people locked up like this.

I settled with my back against the wall and tried to think of the beach that was a few miles away. It was always the same picture in my head. I'd be hiking up the green hills and I'd come to the top and see a beautiful beach with the ocean kissing the sand and retreating quickly only to do it again.

I think I saw the ocean once when I was too little to remember. Perhaps I went there on a family day trip and we were allowed to run along the beach without our shoes and it was a warm and sunny day, something that wasn't too frequent here. Or maybe I just wished for it so bad I had implanted a fake memory to cope with my feeling of abandonment. I thought about how one day I would leave this place. I would run until I couldn't breathe and then I'd keep running without ever looking back. I'm only six years old, I thought. But I was the bravest six year old I ever knew.

 

\---

Like most nights lately, I was wide awake, and if I could sleep it was only half sleeping and jolting upright when I heard a noise somewhere in the house. I was used to this cycle now, but I just couldn't handle being tired all the time.

I liked to practice levitating things in the room, thought there wasn't much to practice with. It also isn't easy to do when you're tired, and it took a lot of strength and focus just to lift something small!

My body was stiff from sitting in the same position for too long and so I rolled over onto my stomach to stretch out. As soon as I did a sharp pain jabbed me in the gut from the inside out as to remind me that I haven't eaten in nearly three days. I was also sure I had a broken rib because I could feel something sticking out of my side and it hadn't gone away. Every time I took a deep breath my entire abdomen was overtaken with pain.

One year ago, when I was first locked in here, I would have started crying and yelping in pain. But now I no longer saw fit to do it. It never helped and in fact made it worse as my father would storm into the room and hold me tightly against the floor, one foot on my back, and his hand wrapped around a belt that came down furiously upon my face and shoulders, stinging my skin until I couldn't feel it anymore. Then after I was yanked to my feet and pinned against the wall while my father towered over me and wrapped his hands around my neck and squeezed for about thirty seconds before releasing. I would drop to the floor with a thud and pass out for the rest of the night, no longer a bother to him.

Sometimes, sitting alone in this darkness, I thought maybe it was okay for that to happen. Maybe I deserved this because maybe I was dangerous. If they never knew I had powers, Mum wouldn't have left, and I wouldn't be locked in this room.

I reached out in the darkness, unable to see, but feeling the weight of the wool blanket on the opposite side of the room.

I didn't want to move and the room was getting cold so I thought I could levitate it toward me. I focused as hard as I could, trying to feel the blanket and imagine holding it. But I was too tired, too weak, and I couldn't. I tried again three times more, but no luck. I guess I'd just sit here and let myself be cold. I didn't have the energy to move myself across the room.

I went limp on the floor and tried to picture the beach and ocean once more. I imagined the shimmering water more blue than the sky on a clear day, and the fish all so colourful. I thought about the sun touching my light skin and warming everything. I hadn't seen the real sun in a long time.

The room was beginning to get colder as the night went on, and I was really needing that itchy blanket across the room. I was thinking about ways to just crawl over to it and hope it didn't hurt too much when suddenly I heard a noise from outside my room and the door quickly swung open and a shadowy small figure emerged into my pitch black room.

Emmett!

He walked over to me quickly and set a plate of leftover food down next to me. It didn't look like it was anything particularly fresh or good, but I would take what I could get.

"I saved you some stuff from dinner, but its jus' what I didn't eat. I checked the kitchen but I think Mrs. Duff fed the rest to the dogs," my brother explained. I grunted in response. He rolled me over and tried to help me sit up. I was too weak to contribute at all but he finally managed to sit me upright and lean me against the wall.

"Where's father this time?" I mumbled, so quiet I wasn't sure Emmett could hear or understand me at all.

"He left, said somethin' 'bout bein' back tomorrow evenin' and to watch the 'ouse," Emmett replied.

Well, that was good news for me at least. I was free to eat until my father returned home. Even if it wasn't that much, every little bit helps keep me alive. I would also get some company for a while. I hadn't see Emmett in over two weeks. It was nice whenever we could talk, I didn't feel so lonely, and Emmett made me feel somewhat important.

"'Ow's it been?" I attempted to ask Emmett the usual starter question. He was currently buttering bread for me.

"I went fishing yesterday. Day 'fore that I went to town an' looked for others to talk to. Didn't find no one. Ever since Murtagh left I've been so bored. It's day after day of helping father with this an' that. I just wanna 'ave fun," he muttered and handed me some bread. I bit into it and chewed it for a solid minute before swallowing. It was always hard to eat like this. To go days without a single crumb and then to have anything more than a few bites. It hurt more than the hunger itself.

"I can't eat, it hurts too much," I cried out.

"But you 'ave to," Emmett gave me another piece of bread and I smacked it out of his hand so ire flew to the side. My brother glared at me and set down the utensils he was holding.

"Get the bread," he ordered me.

"I can't move," I protested.

"You don't need to, use your power."

"I can't I don't 'ave the energy!" I tried to shout him, though it sounded more like a squeak. It traveled though the hallway and back to me again. I immediately silenced myself. I was too afraid someone might stumble down the hall and start shoving me around and hitting me. I began crying for the first time in two weeks.

I could see Emmett felt bad, and he reached over and retrieved the bread. He offered it once more and I took it, not caring that it was on the dirty floor. I was too hungry and too sick to refuse it.

"Is there anything I can read?" I asked Emmett. He rolled his eyes at me.

"Don't be stupid, Amelia. You don't know 'ow to read," he said.

"I can teach myself. Remember Father telling us the stories 'bout the birds who learned 'ow to talk and read?"

"No, those were jus' stories. Made up. Not real. Birds can't read," Emmett argued.

"Of course stories are real. Where else do people get these ideas if they've never seen a reading bird?" I countered.

"It's called an imagination," Emmett told me as he fed me carrots.

"Something you don't 'ave anymore," I growled at him and bit into a carrot angrily.

"We used to 'ave fun together," I told him.

"Yeah, an' then you decided to be weird," Emmett mentioned. I frowned at him and stopped chewing.

"I don't know," I said. He shrugged and stood up.

"I think you should come out tonight," he said. My eyes widened.

"I wouldn't dare," I shook my head at him, remembering how last time our cook, Mrs. Duff, waltzed through the front door and almost caught us in the library.

"Ya can't say sittin' there," Emmett held out his hand for me to grab.

"I very well can," I refused.

He scooped up my dinner plate and marched out of the room, leaving the door open for me to follow.

"Emmett!" I cried.

I turned over so I was kneeling. My knees were in so much pain. They were also caked with dry blood from when my father pushed me down the steep stairs at the end of the hallway three days ago. I suspected that was also the cause of my possible broken rib. I gripped the wall with my hands and clawed my way up into a standing position. Now that I was on my feet I had to figure out how to actually walk. It took half of the energy I currently had just to take one step.

Emmett reappeared in his doorway and called my name, telling me to hurry up. Well, I couldn't help that I was weak and slow.

I clutched my stomach as pain shot all through my torso. I could feel that hard thing that I thought was bone, sticking out at an odd angle. It sure hurt.

Emmett eventually came over and held me by the waist as we took each step, pulling each other towards the door.

"It hurts," I cried, meaning the sharp pain on my side, but in truth, everything hurt.

Once we got to the stairs at the end of the hallway I was able to crawl down and hold onto Emmett for support. I had eaten some food but I was still incredibly weak and in massive pain.

"I'll carry you!" Emmett's face brightened at his brilliant idea.

"You can't carry me," I squinted at him in the light that was hurting my eyes.

"Of course I can! Jus' pretend you're the princess bein' saved from the scary monster at the top of the tower 'an I'm the prince, sweeping you off your feet into the sunset," he grinned. I frowned.

"I am the monster. But even if I was the princess, I'd never marry you! You're like the ugly toad!" I retorted. He scoffed and crossed his arms.

"Handsome prince!"

"Ugly toad!"

"Handsome prince!"

"Ugly toad!"

"Handsome P-"

"Just pick me up already!" I interrupted him and he awkwardly bent down and hoisted me in the air in a weird way. I grumbled in pain and hissed at him.

"This isn't 'ow you carry a princess!" I coughed and Emmett took me to the sitting room where I was dropped on the brown leather couch. He ignored my comment.

"I can go run some water for you if you'd like a bath," Emmett suggested. The thought of a warm bath sounded so nice and comforting, I immediately said yes. I'm sure I smelled awful.

My brother left the room and I was left by myself in the sitting room barely lit by just a few small candles on the corner table.

My eyes were adjusting to the change in light, although it wasn't much lighter than the room I was always locked in. I moved in a way to make the couch more comfortable as I laid down. My stomach was hurting so bad now I could only take small short breaths.

Soon Emmett returned and carried me to the bathroom where I took off my old clothes and stepped into the warm water. I had great trouble sitting down in the tub, but once I did I was able to release some tension.

"I'll be back with a cloth," Emmett said and quickly slipped out.

Tears dripped from my eyes as every cut on my body stung and I tried to wash the grim off my skin. I had some bug bites on my legs and feet, and you could clearly see dirt caked on my skin. I decided to look at my stomach for the first time to see what it was tat was causing me so much pain, and when I did, I thought I might puke into the water. One of my right ribs protruded straight out and caused a huge lump in my stomach. Definitely broken. And all around the lump my skin had a big splotch of yellow and purple and blue.

No doubt it hurt, but for some reason I thought broken bones were supposed to hurt more. One time I broke my father's nose. I remembered the day perfectly. I was sitting in the corner of my room farthest from the door, all curled up in a ball. I was exhausted from being whipped the night before and all I really wanted was to sleep. This was before Mum left. MY father came strolling down the hallway with her and called for me to stand up. I had more things in my room then. My favorite was a rag-doll Emmett snuck in one day. I wasn't allowed to have it and I had left it on top of my bed where it was clearly visible. My father picked up the doll in his hand and held it up for me to see.

"What's this?" he asked. Tears began to flow down my cheeks before he even laid a finger on me.

"Millie," he cooed at me once more and took five steps closer. I tried as hard as I could to keep my tears silent until he threw the doll as hard as he could and it hit me on the side of my face. I screamed and stood up where I was. I began bawling and my father's temper was rising. My mother stood a few feet behind him watching as the next events were about to unfold.

"MILLIE I TOLD YOU THAT YOU CAN'T 'AVE ANY GOD-DAMNED TOYS IN 'ERE CAUSE IT'S DANGEROUS!!!" he exploded, shaking the entire house. I screamed once more and tried to make a run for it, thinking I could squeeze past him and my mother but that was my huge mistake. He grabbed the back of my dress and I was slammed against the floor. All the air was knocked out of me and I couldn't breathe. I kicked wildly and tried to scream again but I had no voice. I was completely powerless and I just had to lay there with my father's hand around my throat. I could see my mother watching silently as my father slapped across the face with the back of his hand. I wished she would do anything but just stand there. I wanted to cry out to her but I couldn't. She did absolutely nothing, meaning she didn't care what happened to me. My head started burning furiously and I thought I might pass out. I was slapped two more times and I thought at this point, anything was better than enduring this. I cried and prayed for it to all be over, but it wasn't. It felt like he was trying to squeeze tighter.

"STUPID DAMNED CHILD OF THE DEVIL!!" he released me and picked me up again only to throw me to the ground for the second time. I took a huge breath and it took me a second to regain all my senses. By this time my father was walking towards the rag-doll and anger flourished inside my tiny body as he bent down to pick it up. I had enough energy to do the only sensible thing I thought was left to get my doll back. I felt the weight of the doll in my hand although I was not touching it. I flung the doll up quickly to hit my father hard in the face. There was a nasty popping noise and I dropped the doll. My father turned to me and I could see now that half of his nose was crooked to the right and blood dripped out of his nostril. His dark eyes raked over me and I was terrified for my life, actually believing that he killing me was a possibility. He rushed across the room to where I was laying and pulled me up from my hair. He whipped out a lighter and let the flame hover over my face before pulling my head back and letting the flame trace over my neck. I screamed out in pain as my skin began to blister and burn. He held the lighter there for ten seconds before I managed to hit it away and it went flying across the room. He screamed something nasty at me and went to retrieve the lighter before taking my expressionless mother and stomping out of the room, leaving me a bruised face and seared neck.

As I sat in the tub, I reached up to touch the scar on my neck, well healed now, but still recent. A reminder of that day forever imprinted there. I cried some more. I looked at my arm. A couple circles were present just above my right elbow where my father put out cigarettes on me.

Emmett returned soon after I finished washing my body and somewhat washing my hair. He was holding a sack of some kind. A mail sack specifically. It looked like it was filled with tons of things that weren't mail.

"What's that?" I asked.

"It's for you. 'As food 'an a jar of water along with three pairs of my trousers 'an some shirts."

I shook my head as I got out of the bathtub and got dressed.

"What for?" I frowned at him.

"For you to run away! So you don't 'ave to stay 'ere!" he exclaimed, handing me the mail sack of supplied. I refused it.

"No, I'm not leaving," I told him.

"Amelia, you 'ave to. Anywhere is better than 'ere. Even I can see that. Just think of all the stories where they run away and find their real family and discover they 'ad been kidnapped their whole life. 'Appily every after?" Emmett tried to persuade me. Two seconds ago these were just stories. This was real life. Deep down I knew stories weren't real, and I didn't live in a fairy tale.

"What about you? Father will know you helped me. Run away with me!" I begged.

Emmett shook his head.

"No. There isn't anything for me out there. But I want my sister to be free. Please, Amelia. If you go he won't be able to hurt you anymore."

I was unsure about everything. I was so used to being locked up, I hadn't left the house in nearly a year. I had no idea what the outside world was like or what I would do, where I would go. In here I knew these walls and I knew what to expect. I couldn't help but think I'd be better off locked in that room where other people couldn't find me, and I still had a family.

"I don't know where to go," I cried. Emmett pointed to the bag.

"I put some money in there. Stole if from the drawer in Father's study. Town isn't far away, you can walk. Buy a train ticket or something. Just get out."

"I 'ave a broken bone!" I blurted. Emmett turned to me.

"I know. I saw. I can't fix it. But you could find someone who can." Emmett stared at me and I gripped the mail sack in my tiny hands. It was heavy, and I could barely hold it. I'd have to drag it. I thought about my dream of running away and never looking back. I could be anything I wanted to be and I didn't have to live with this pain here. I wanted to be brave. I wanted to live and Emmett was giving me the opportunity to do it. This is all I've wanted. I didn't have to think about my decision any longer. Like a bolt of lightning, I rushed past my brother and out the front door into the dark. It was a cool night, and despite the pain of my broken rib, I ran.


End file.
